


Star Charting

by Shadowsage



Series: Starfire and Crimson [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Astrologian Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Raen (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Crystal Tower Arc (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff and Angst, I hope I tagged this correctly, Minor Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, OC Warrior of Light - Freeform, Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Pining, Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowsage/pseuds/Shadowsage
Summary: This begins at the end of the Syrcus Tower raid series, and fills the summarized time gap from when the Tower was opened again until arrival on the First.  May continue up to the beginning of ShB.  So that is a terrible summary.Written from (mostly) G'raha's perspective, from what happened the moment he was sealed behind the Tower doors, though his arrival on the First-  and maybe, to continue to and/or through the pre 5.0 quests' timeline.





	1. Prologue: Fade

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I have written for non-work related purposes in a very long time. Please feel free to criticize, but please be gentle. I will be attempting to remain lore-friendly, and feel free to imagine your own personal Warrior in place of mine- I simply write best when associating descriptions with a character I have roleplayed for years.
> 
> I live on the Crystal data center, and so does the non-WoL version of my character, with all of her friends and found family. Several have them have given me permission to use them, and they will be appearing in this series.

The doors closed, and he smiled. He had not wanted, not _really_, to leave everyone behind. It had been a quick decision- but not a rash, or even impulsive one. He knew, that they would find a way- as much as he knew he would never see any of them again. He had thought it over, long and hard that night, when she had gone back with Cid and Rammbroes and the others to the Find. He hoped to hear of their stories when he would wake- of the future she would paint, so very bright and clear. A faraway time he would wake in, and follow their example, one he hoped would be everything that he knew they were hoping to build. A future where he could sing their stories, and tell tales that may even be forgotten, of the shy and uncertain hero in her early days, of the person who would become the bright legend that people would look up to. He would love to tell some unwitting soul a story of shy starfire eyes, and the way she had laughed, when all he wanted were La Noscean oranges. He would see that future, and follow the bright and burning star he knew her tale would spin in to- there were already stories being spread about her, and if tales of old heroes were any indication, there would be many more.

Soft steps, as he climbed the tower, blue and gold walls surrounding him. She had loved this place, his inspiration had, looking around the majestic, impossible constructions with wonder and awe. Days they had spent together comparing notes, the Warrior proving just as interested in uncovering what there could be gleaned by the writings they had discovered as he. They had spent the night in his tent, once or twice, when both of them had fallen asleep in their shared excitement. It was when they were pouring over an Allagan tomestone shoulder to shoulder, close enough that his ear had brushed her hair- down and loose for once- and it made her soft, soft shy voice laugh so very- That train of thought stopped, short, and shied away from completing the purely emotional anecdote that would have followed. The future, is where his destiny awaited, not with those he walked away from.

The Tower was quiet, now, the guardians still and silent, awaiting his orders, content to remain at rest while the last son of the Allagan Empire walked its halls. He refused to dwell on the look they had given him, when he had convinced Cid and the rest to stay, to wait, to let him close the doors. She had covered it up quickly with a quiet smile, to be sure- he, content to be a mere footnote in the shadow of the greatness that would be her heroic tales. He did not dare dwell on what that hastily-covered-up expression of shock might mean- of the hurt that was quickly sealed behind ghostly-pale and inscrutable silver eyes as she nodded, in agreement, with his plan to await the future, and sleep within the crystal halls. Of the small, soft smile, the last thing he saw as he said goodbye, over a shoulder, carelessly glancing back for one last glimpse of everyone- instead of the group, lambent starfire would forever be seared into his memory. He would be forgotten in time, after all, theirs had been but a few weeks’ adventure in the grand scheme of things.  
  
There was a room he had found while sending all of the remaining researchers out, and it was there he had walked, a ways high in the tower, an inlaid floor that he could use as a console to control the magics of the place. The exterior bits were already beginning to shut down, to sleep. This, then, would be where he would pass his time asleep as well. Tired, was not a word to describe him- as he settled down, bow and arrows leaned comfortably in his lap, his tail curled delicately around him. He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the floor, upper back touching the portal like crystal behind him, in the room that would eventually become the Ocular, and let his head bow ever so slightly, ears drifting back, as he felt the Tower falling into stillness. His breathing, began to slow, to ease, and much as he could sense the stillness, a waiting, baited breath of silence closing around the Tower, impossibly so- was someone pounding on a distant door or-  
  
A final exhale, and then crimson eyes opened up to dust, and dimmed light.


	2. Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he wakes in a faraway future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe this already has people liking it. Thank you for reading! Updates will be sporadic but ongoing.

A loud thump, and the doors finally opened- it had taken some prize magitek crafting, and some very, very creative aetherical trickery, and… a little plain brute force, but they had done it. It was the end of a very long time, and even late in the day to boot, but they had _done_ it. One of the Ironworks folks along for the trip looked at their boss, who was carefully leafing through a well-cared for and very worn old journal. “Hey, Biggs, do you really think we’ll find this G’raha Tia in here? He must be nothing but dust and bones by now, even if the vaunted Cid believed he’ll still be here. For that matter, are you really sure he’ll want to help us?”  
  
  
That voice, echoed and he closed his eyes. He was…. Very tired, lethargic, even… He wondered, why he was so tired, when just a moment ago he had sat down, it had even still been morning, when he had said goodbye, they cannot have managed to open the doors in just a few minutes, could they? His sense of awareness faded and this time he was far more cognizant of that fact, even as his sense of the Tower told him that yes, indeed, it had been opened, his senses and his body dragged his mind back down into darkness. His body began to remember how to breathe, the blood remembering how to flow, the process of _waking up_ needing a much longer time than the momentary flash of alertness that had come with the Tower’s reopening, slow to recover from stasis. A tailtip twitched, and then was still, as the body slowly, began to breathe.  
  
  
Biggs led the group inside, following a map that had been sketched in Cid’s journal, the guide they were following, to try and undo, to unmake and re-write history. It seemed impossible, and for all the good that there was left in the fading world, the inevitable doom was why they had tried this desperate, bid. And they would never know if it worked, or not was the greatest kicker. The way the theories worked, either they would continue to exist and they would die terrible deaths or, their existence would cease and they would never have been born to live in the gods-cursed hellscape the world had become. And yet, to unwrite their own lives was their hope- so that a better world, where at least their souls would come around again, would replace it. They just needed the right keys.  
  
“Yes. Yes I do think we will find the tower’s caretaker here- though Cid believes he will know naught of what has passed while he slept, so keep in mind he is before the Calamity, and the last he will have known is the beginning of an era of peace, back when the Warrior of Light herself still walked around. I am also sure he will help us, once he understands why we’ve come, but it may be a bit much to drop on the poor bloke all at once so… mind your words, when we find him.”  
  
It was some hours later when he opened a door and- an impressive floor, but everything was covered in dust- including the miqo’te seated and leaning lightly against a glowing almost portal-like framed oval of crystal. An ear twitched at the sounds of their boots on the elegant floor, as the others with him stepped in behind him. As they cleared the room, and opened the side doors to check for living things, weapons drawn, all of them found their attention distracted, drawn to the figure with crimson hair and clothes, a small patch of blood in the blue and gold crystalline walls of the ancient Allagan tower. Dust, fell off as the other ear twitched, clearly the person there was alive- though no one could have sat long enough to gather dust on them unless…  
  
  
  
He blinked his eyes open again, as an ear, then the other twitched, tickled by… something… voices, murmuring softly, heavy armored bootsteps, and the creak of armor and uniforms. Hazy, at first- had he not only closed his eyes for a few moments? - but his vision cleared, and he blinked, up, at a roegadyn that could have been Biggs’ brother, surprise on his face as he sneezed, shaking more dust from his hair. He moved to get up- but found his body refusing to cooperate, and with a hoarse exclamation, managed to go from a dignified sitting position to half-sprawled, and choking on the cloud of dust that had fallen from his own form. It registered, then, that time had passed though he had not marked it- though it had been but minutes ago he had said goodbye, to Cid, to Rammbroes, to _her_… it had been quite a bit longer before these people in Ironworks gear, had found him.  
  
“Here, lend him a hand, Lizbet give him your canteen, with all the dust small wonder he is choking half to death. Aldred, help him stand.”  
  
“Yes, boss!”  
  
The hyuran female and male- both highlanders by the looks of it, quickly lent aid, as G’raha fumbled his way to his feet, his bow clattering to the ground, catching his breath- and taking a grateful drink from the canteen. The water… tasted stale, though he was not going to complain!- but something, was off. Wasn’t this the future that would use the knowledge of this tower to help further the Astral era that he had left from?  
  
Biggs sighed as several other members of his team fanned out and scouted out the room and immediate vicinity, the large roegadyn himself moving to stand before the small crimson-eyed miqo’te, his rumbling voice not quite echoing against the clear acoustics of the crystalline halls.  
  
“Are you G’raha Tia, then?”  
  
He nodded, and replied, “Yes- please forgive me, I must be quite the sight. …Would you be so kind as to tell me… when, this is? And who are you all? I recognize the Ironworks symbols on your uniforms, but I do not recognize much else.”  
  
Biggs exchanged a look with the others, and they all nodded.  
  
“I’ll begin then. I’m Biggs the third, current chief of the Garlond Ironworks. The best we can figure it is a bit over two hundred years since you sealed this place, and we came looking for you in here, because Cid left behind a request of us- and a chance for a better future that rather needs you, and your ability to control this Tower, to realize. Let’s get you outside, and to the camp, we can fill you in a bit more on the history you missed, once we’re settled in and have you settled in somewhere comfortable. These folsk with me are Lizbet, Aldred, Narun’a, Liarara, Yvette, and Kaeleg.”  
  
Biggs motioned to each person in turn on his little expedition, the mixed bag ever a staple at the Ironworks. Freedom through technology and all that, they never did care overmuch what race someone was, only what they were capable of. He looked over at the fallen bow and quiver, even as he clapped a hand on G’raha’s shoulder.  
  
“So, you’re able to use that, aye?”  
  
A nod, as he felt his ears flatten a bit- there was something that they were avoiding discussing, there was an odd and _off_ feeling to the air- …He was afraid to ask, the questions he now had, as a cold chill settled in the pit of his stomach. No, two hundred and then some years would indeed assure anyone he knew was long gone, much as he had hoped it would be her, his Warrior, to be a part of those who would open the tower once more, even she would have to be long gone by now. Maybe he would meet her descendants- they had spoken once, of family, and her own longing for one, someday. But Biggs kept giving him worried looks, and that, was what sealed the icy chill that did not belong, when he had shut the Tower doors with such hope in his heart.  
  
“I am a decent archer, yes. …forgive me, Biggs, but.. did you say two hundred and a bit years- you are unsure of the exact date?”  
  
“Yes, two hundred, give or take- but we will explain a bit more about that once we get back to camp. Ah- there won’t be any… Allagan monstrosities going to wake up and attack us, are there, now that you’re …..well, awake, as well?”  
  
G’raha shook his head, that cold chill solidifying into an icy pit in his gut. He was a historian, first and foremost, and there was only one reason that history would ever be vague on dates, or lose track, of years… and he did not want to contemplate what that implied, much as he would need to know anyway. “No, there should not be- as security measures they would have woken, but however you opened the doors did not trigger any alarums, and with its caretaker awoken, they will remain in stasis and will continue to slumber on unless summoned.”  
  
“Good, good. I’ll recall the team, then, and we will be sure to let the doors close behind us, since you can reopen them again… right?”  
  
He nodded, tail flicking nervously behind him as Lizbet retrieved his bow and arrows- he was more unsteady than he liked on his feet- but that must have been a side effect of… having been asleep, for over… two… hundred… He shook his head with a small, nervous smile, both cutting short that train of thought before it short-circuited his ability to think for the moment, and accepting his weapon from the highlander female with a soft, appreciative thank you.  
  
“Yes- Syrcus Tower recognizes me as someone with the bloodline qualified to manipulate the Tower, therefore I will be more than able to reopen the doors at will. How… did you get them open, anyway?”  
  
Lizbet answered with a broad grin, blue eyes dancing as she almost laughed. “We did a bit of a trick, you see, combined what we had pieced together from the founder’s diary with some other tricks we learned over the years, and at the end, when the doors started to open and stopped- we gave it a good, hard shove.”  
  
“Ah, I see. Thank you, for the water-“ He tried to offer the canteen back but she shook her head and declined.  
  
“Nah, think nothing of it, I carry a spare anyway. I’m the team’s medic, and a spare supply of clean water is always useful to have on hand. Speaking of, I’d like to look you over once we get back to camp, make sure nothing’s wrong, at least physically, from whatever happened that let you stay alive in there for so long. Like a time traveler.”  
  
The group shared a look- though for the life of him he could not parse what it meant. In truth, he may have been a little afraid of what it meant, as all of them seemed to be stepping carefully around something, some terrible secret. As they began descending the tower, he could smell the difference in the air- while the stillness of the Allagan halls was its own flavor, there was a quality that was… not what he was expecting, had these people been from an age of prosperity. But the clues were already there, weren’t they? Something had happened- and the future he had awoken to, was not going to be what he had hoped for, the lost years were proof enough of that.  
  
His steps became more steady as they went, apparently the use was reminding his body how it moved, how it walked, how his tail worked to help keep his balance when he missed a step here, how his reflexes were quick enough to catch a railing when someone bumped into him by accident at a corner. It was not long before he was back to moving as he remembered, not as graceful as she had been, but certainly lithe, and sure on his own feet. Certainly well able to draw the bow he carried, and… it was that every member of the expedition was armed, and well-armed, that only added to his worries. No, this was not an expedition in search of peaceful means, not a group used to an Astral era of prosperity. He tried to ignore the growing dread.  
  
It was a stray comment, someone wondering if he really was before the Calamity aloud behind him that made him freeze in his tracks and look around, shaking, ears dropped almost flat to the sides of his head, eyes going bright with tears. He knew it had to have been something catastrophic but-  
  
“Forgive me- but... did you just say- eighth… Umbral…”  
  
Silence for a long moment. Someone else in the back smacked the miqo’te who had spoken on the back of the head, hard.  
  
Biggs sighed. “I was hoping to break that to you when we were settled and you were sitting down. You aren’t mistaken. We’re in the year two hundred and seventeen- we think- of the Eighth Umbral Era. The Calamity happened only a few years after you were sealed away. …I’m sorry.”  
  
He found himself on the floor with no memory of how he had gotten there, bow fallen from nerveless fingers as he shook, the enormity of what he had been reading hints of all along hitting him all at once, with the confirmation of what he had feared- and then some, it was _even worse_. His hands went to the sides of his head, as he stared, shock taking over his body- enough that he slumped, and knew nothing but darkness once more.  



	3. Fireside Tales

Crimson eyes slowly opened after sensation began returning- the awful truths no less distant now, but feeling himself laying down helped.  _ They had all died so soon after, what had they been fighting for? He had hoped that they would live long lives, that she could find someone to- _ Slowly he sat up, again stopping his mind from following that train of thought, a thick, heavy blanket sliding down his chest- he blinked and more of his surroundings came into focus. He was on a cot in a tent that had seen better days, but as many-times-mended as the fabric was it seemed in good repair. There was a steaming mug on the chest beside him, he assumed someone had been keeping watch- and he put a hand over his face as his ears flattened in dismay. He had passed out like a fainting maiden at the news- reasonably, it had been one too many shocks in short succession but still…

It was too much. It had only been hours since he had last seen all of them, and yet now, he was surrounded by the fruit of their works- and a world-killing Calamity and hundreds of years later. He could hear snatches of conversation outside the tent- and then heavy steps as Biggs came in. His tail curled under the blanket beside him unhappily, as he looked up at the giant roegadyn, crimson eyes dismayed and dark. A brief, sympathetic smile as Biggs offered G’raha a large steaming mug of what smelled like hot chocolate.

“Ah, good, you’re awake again. I’m sorry, but we did carry you back to camp, we didn't want to leave you there, even if of all of us you’d be safe enough in the Tower. Lizbet has some stew on, we can talk over what has become of the world while you get something warm in you.”

He nodded, and sat up to take the mug, one hand going to his head- which  _ hurt  _ now that he was paying attention to it, he didn’t think he fell on it in the Tower… Listening, as Biggs told the story, it… was a lot to take in, all at once. So much time had passed- so much had changed, had happened. So much work had already been done toward an end he was ot sure he could properly fathom. 

“So you are positive, that this world is the Source of all of the others… and that it is other worlds crashing in to it that have caused the various Calamities that have struck this world near-asunder each time, causing each Umbral age?”

Biggs nodded, “Aye. And it took Cid to the end of his life, to figure out the theories for the time travel, and how we might be able to fix this mess that our world has become. ...there is a way, we think, that using the Tower that you are the keeper of, we can forge a crossroads, and somehow, manage a way to make the future we live in now, a way to stop the  _ Calamity _ that is still killing our world by inches, and make it so it will never come to pass. We may have solved the problem with Black Rose but its mark is still deep and still draining the very life of the world.”

G’raha shook his head, ears low. “So you would send the Tower- and me with it- to the First and through time, to somehow stop that calamity from ever occurring by stopping whatever occurred there. It certainly is capable of storing the energy required for the transfer- utilizing an unimaginably vast amount of aether is what it was built to do, after all…”

Biggs put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed, gently. “You don’t have to decide right now, lad. Though we all have a lot of hope riding on this, not a one of us would blame you for turning us down, since if we can manage to succeed, you’ll stop existing as much as we will. But mankind, for this world, it’s finished. It’d be by us changing the past, that we can even begin to make things better. ...Get to know the world you’re living in now, though it might be a bit of a shock until you're used to what’s different. We’ll bring you what books we have around camp, and I can get a few folks to go with you wherever you’d like to see for yourself- though not all of the aetherytes that used to work back in the day still do.”

Not all the Aetherytes still worked? How was that even still possible, they were giant crystals directly linked into- oh. He looked up at Biggs with a wan smile. “I believe I should probably learn what I can, then. I’ll admit I had hoped this would be a better age, and that I’d be hearing stories yet of my friends.”

Biggs actually smiled. “Well,  _ some _ stories you’ll still hear. The ones told far and wide may not be about the Ironworks’ founder, but a favorite around every campfire the world over near as we can tell, are still the ones about the silver-eyed Warrior of Light and how she never, never backed down when she was needed. When you feel up for it, we tend to keep a fire going later than we should in the evenings retelling our favorites."

The large man left with a wave, and G’raha stared after him, not entirely sure once again he had heard everything correctly. One ear flicked, disbelief writing itself across his face slowly as at least some of that he had been told sank in. They- history-  _ she was remembered _ and he suspected it was as a light of hope. He had told her history would remember her, the shy silver eyed lady who hid the most beautiful parts of herself- maybe that meant she finally let the world see her. G'raha shook his head, and ran fingers through his hair- snagging at the braid as he wriggled his ears in relief not having realized how stiff they had gotten from the years passing that he was unaware of. Standing, the archer stepped out of the tent and headed for the campfire.

  
  


"-and she came back after defeating the Lord of the Whorl, the giant serpent primal Leviathan- with nary a scratch to show. The sahagin tugged her boat back to shore and she stood tall and fair, unbowed from fighting the largest terror ever known to the seas."

Lizbet was telling the tale, striking a heroic pose, nothing like the Warrior G'raha had known, but clearly a storied and inspiring figure. A small smile as he approached the group, sitting down at the edge of the firelight on a broken and worn smooth chunk of crystal and listened. His tail curled behind him and he sipped the hot chocolate that had been handed to him when he had emerged from the tent. As absorbed as he was with the stories, what fascinated him.the most were the reactions to them. Admittedly he could not really let himself register the years they implied but the expressionism people's faces as these old tales were spun were as avid and enthralled as if the stories were new. As weary and careworn as many of them seemed, the hope they drew from stories of the Warrior of Light was amazing.

They shared several stories that evening- all of them of a woman he barely recognized- save this: she gave of herself without hesitation. The courage of the woman who stood alone in the face of Nidhogg that had all of the faces around the fire lit with the hope that that bravery inspired, and the tenacity of the one who stood alone against the madman Zenos. Biggs shared his favorite- passed down through his family from a scion named Tataru, who once had tried to do different adventuring roles, and even when she failed to accomplish them successfully, the Warrior comforted her, and encouraged her to continue to hone the skills she already had- since not everyone could manage being the secretary of such a spread out group. That story of small kindness was like the shy woman he had known- but it was also perhaps the only tale spun that evening that had her familiar quiet nature. Not that the other tales told of a boisterous or outlandish person but they did not tell of a  _ person _ either, instead she was impossibly virtuous and larger-than-life.

G’raha had not realized he was noticed, as he watched, and it was noticed that he was on the edge of the crowd. When the group broke up, talking of hope and of their next planned foray into the Tower to find and figure some of its technologies, he sighed, stood, and nearly ran face first into Biggs as he turned around to go back to the tent he had woken in. With a blink and a less than dignified startled yelp he stopped, and looked up at the large roegadyn, ears tucked back in alarm.

“Sorry lad! Is it even proper to call you lad? How old are you supposed to be anyhow? Anyway! ...You saw what makes our days livable, you did. Every story's been told a few dozen hundred times to be sure, but it don't make a difference. The lads each have their favorite and they're the ones we hear the most. Go get some sleep- I know we just woke you up but the medic of my crew believes real rest and not more stasis will do your body good and let it normalize again. This tent's yours until we get another together, and we will be using what you know to do what we can to keep moving forward. Whatever you decide, we can't let the little hope we yet can claim vanish and if you do choose to work with us? Well, we'll be glad for the head start. Rest up and see you in the morning!"

G’raha nodded, as the large man laughed, and clapped him on the back of the shoulder. “Take a moment or two, I’ll see to it the lads mostly leave you alone and give you time and space to grieve what aught has happened- I’ve taken the advice of an old journal often enough, I may as well keep doing so. That reminds me, I’ll leave Cid’s memoirs for you in the tent tomorrow, it may help you understand a bit of the world and why we’re doing what we’re doing these days. See that tent over there?”

Biggs III poinited off to one side, where a tent made of a different color fabric than the rest, a lighter almost white instead of the darker browns of the rest. “That’s where you can find what food we have- most of it is travel set, and Lizbet pulls double duty for us, she;s cook and medic, so she can help you find something you can eat when you wake.”

Another nod, and G’raha stuttered- “Ah- th-thank you this has been quite the experience. It was the end of a full day when I closed the doors- it… still feels like that same day, to me now. So pardon, this is…. A lot to process and to take in. But… thank you, for the understanding and care.”

Biggs nodded, and left. G’raha sat down, and considered the collection of tales he had heard- and tears began to fill his crimson eyes as he buried his face in his hands, and bend over, tail curling tightly around him. It was… almost too much for him to bear. She was dead- he knew the gentle woman would be but it was still difficult to accept. None of the stories seemed to have mentioned anyone in her life- no, she was larger than life indeed, a shining beacon of hope like he had known she would be. Gods it was what he had wished for…

  
  


Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay- the chapter got away from me and I kept losing my train of thought. Thank you for bearing with!


End file.
